Parenting a child who has died

"You must be so excited to be new parents," some have said to us since Tobias was born. "We are thrilled," I responded, "But we have already been parents to Eli for a year now. "

"Oh, you know what I meant. You actually get to parent this baby." 

I understand why someone might think this, especially someone who has never had a child pass away. When a baby dies, do we simply stop parenting them? 

As soon as I found out I was pregnant with Eli, I tried my hardest to eat healthy, and to take care of him the best I could. I placed my hand over my stomach instinctively to protect him. And so began my parenting of this sweet unborn child. We started painting his nursery, buying clothing and picking out names. Our parenting continued in so many ways. 

Then came the frightful day when we found out Eli's heart had stopped beating. We cried in each others arms and grieved the death of our child. This is parenting. 

On May 1st I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy after a painful labor, mixed with both physical pain and an aching heart. As I gave one last push and they placed his lifeless little body on my chest, I cried. This is parenthood. 

On May 2nd we buried our son in a tiny white casket, surrounded by friends and family. We had to say goodbye to him knowing we would never see him again on this earth. Another painful process of parenthood had taken place. 

On May 3 I had to go to the emergency room due to blood clotting from two days prior. I had to face the very building where we had left our son behind once again. I would do it all again for him. Motherhood can be so tragic. 

I spent months with his receiving blanket, snuggling and crying into it, talking to him as if he were there. We visit him at his grave only to be reminded that we are indeed parents to a child who was only seen by 3 of our family members and our Pastor.

This is all part of the painful process of parenting that goes unnoticed. We picked out Eli's headstone: the most beautiful memorial to him. We would rather be decorating his nursery, but we continue on, parenting him the only way we know how. 

We remember him. We love him. Not a day goes by that we do not think of him. 

There are many differences between parenting a dead child and a living child, but one thing is very much the same: our love for both of our boys.